War's End
by the Prince's Jewel
Summary: R for violence, mostly. I think. I have 4 versions of this, decided I liked the start of this version... you tell me what you think.
1. End of the war

Dull eyes remained fixed on the rock where the other warrior had fallen. For once, the rocks hadn't shattered - the warrior had. The agonized scream, the sound of his bones shattering, both had reached the warrior trapped beneath the rocks. He'd watched, helpless, from where they'd dropped the cliff on him. Only his head had not been crushed - he had managed, at the last moment, to fling his arm over his head in a futile attempt to protect himself. The arm had broken.

The final warrior had fallen, and with him, the hope and fierce anger that had blazed in the watcher's eyes dimmed. They had lost.

He hurt. Were all of his bones broken? Where was Vegeta? The children? Goku moved his arm experimentally. Not broken. He began digging himself carefully free of the debris surrounding him, looking around occasionally to see if he could spot the others. The process was agonizingly slow. His arm seemed to be the only thing _not_ broken. Every movement hurt, and levering rocks wasn't helping.

His power level was nil, an ordinary human child would have been stronger than he was, yet he somehow managed to get himself unburied. Only then did he allow himself to take stock of his injuries, and only then did the pain overwhelm him again.

The sun was setting by the time he recovered, the shock of red sun in his eyes setting them to watering. His headache had settled into a mind-numbing throb instead of the pulsating agony of his first awakening. With his good arm, he poked and prodded at himself, sharp gasps of pain accompanying the self examination.

Broken ribs, broken arm, broken leg, and one ankle. The other ankle was merely twisted and sprained, but it wouldn't take much to snap it, too. Collarbone snapped, a dislocated shoulder, naturally attached to the broken arm. And his head hurt so badly he didn't doubt something had finally broken his skull.

He was in no condition to move, but he did anyway, gritting his teeth against the pain as he smashed his shoulder back into place. He had no way to set the bones, but at least now he could…. _What can I do? Where are the others? I should be able to sense them… except that I can't even sense myself! Are we all so depleted? I _have_ to find them!_ Determined on his course, Goku rolled to his stomach, and then spent several very long moments trying to recover.

"Arm out. Dig in toe." Goku pushed and pulled his broken body across the rocky battlefield, chanting what to do as a mantra against the otherwise overwhelming pain. He no longer raised his head, no longer cared which direction he went. In truth, he no longer remembered why he had started moving.

He flung out his arm, his fingers gripping his latest hold. He dug in his toe. He began pulling - and realized he didn't grip rock. It was flesh - cold flesh. His whole body tensed, not wanting to know, but forcing himself to look. An arm, poking out from the rubble. He pulled himself closer, slowly digging out the shoulder. Wisps of hair… purple. Trunks had fallen here.

Goku stared at the purple strands for a long time, his mind slowly piecing in what of Trunks' battle he'd seen. The young demi-Saiyan hadn't had a chance of surviving. The blast that had knocked him to the ground had taken half his face.

Slow, fat tears fell from his eyes as he maneuvered around the rubble. This last battle had taken more than Vegeta's son. Dende and Krillen had been the first two casualties. Yamcha, then Piccolo, had followed. The Saiyans had continued to battle, taking on the impossible odds with everything they had. And one by one, they had fallen as well.

Trunks was here. Goten would be nearby - the two were rarely separated for long. Goku continued carefully around Trunks' body, downward, since it was easier. He saw the black spikes of hair before he'd made it all the way around, the blank, dead eyes, the hand outstretched towards Trunks. He laid his head down, sobbing, letting his pain flow.

At last, he began inching his way forward again. Gohan, Vegeta, and the girls - he still had to find them. There was still a chance, however slim, that they might be alive.

A chance that grew slimmer with each body he found. Gohan had been first, then the girls, so close behind him that Goku was sure his son had been trying to protect them. Their bodies had still been slightly warm - their killers had used them as after-battle spoils before leaving. They had died of their wounds while he had been searching. He cried, his spirit nearly broken. But, he still had one hope, one last person to find. Only Vegeta remained. Vegeta, who had been blasted from the sky, and followed down by seven of the enemy. He'd been flying toward him when he himself had been shot out of the sky. He continued the search.

"Vegeta?" Goku couldn't tell if the prince was alive. He'd almost missed the man, buried as he was. He lumbered his way closer, taking in the broken arm under the slab, the only thing he truly could see. That, and a lot of dried blood. "Vegeta?"

He thrust himself the last little bit, collapsing at last next to the pile of rubble that had been a cliff. "Vegeta, if you're alive, I'll get you out, I swear I will. I just… I have to rest a minute."

His breath was now coming in great gasps, his pain so great he couldn't feel anything else. As it ebbed and his breathing became steadier, he set to figuring out how to dig Vegeta out. The cliff - some large rocks, but mostly earth or small stones. Luck, there. It would be easy enough to dig in it. He hitched himself a bit closer, hollowed himself a hole that would allow him to get beneath the large rock over the prince's head and lever it off. Painstaking work, and it took forever.

"Ready, Vegeta? I'm going to get the big rock off now." Goku set his hand on the underside of the rock, gathered all of his energy, and _shoved_. The rock went tumbling, but the figure beneath didn't move. Goku was too spent to do any more. Exhaustion and his injuries struck him down.

Sunlight. His dazed senses slowly assimilated the fact that his injuries hadn't killed him - and his enemies hadn't made sure of his death. _Alive. Wounded, badly, but alive. I'm going to destroy them._ He attempted to move, failed utterly, and tried to figure out how to get revenge if he couldn't move.

"AHHHHHH!" The cry of pain right next to him startled him rather badly, but he recognized the voice. Kakarot wasn't dead. And, he must be able to move.

"K… Ka…" His voice wasn't working.

"Vegeta? You're alive? OWWW!" There was a scrabbling noise. "I'm pretty bad off, but I'll get you dug out."

"Sss… sen…" he managed.

"Sen? Senzu! Right. I had…" The voice trailed off uncertainly, and patting noises reached his ears. "Here, you take this one." Something touched his broken arm, and agony shot through him. "Here. Vegeta. Open up. Take this!"

Vegeta blinked, straightened out his arm, and looked up to see Kakarot's asinine grin. "Hadn't you better take one?" he asked, noticing the other's excessive battering.

"Well, I would, but I only had the one I'd forgotten about. I didn't want you to die while I tried to dig you out, so I had you take it." Goku's smile slipped as the pain of broken ribs made itself known again. "It's okay, I can dig like this."

"Where is the enemy?"

Goku was pawing at the rocks around his neck. "Them? I don't know. I can't sense anything."

"I suppose that means it's of no use to ask where the others are?"

The hand clearing the rocks away paused. "No." He pulled the last few rocks from Vegeta's back, and started on the rest of the pile. "I… found them."

Vegeta knew from his tone the others were dead. His free hand swept the rubble pinning him down as he proceeded to help dig himself out. "I see."

Even with the two of them working, it took some time to dig him out. He hadn't had the energy to blast himself free. "Um, Vegeta?"

"Kakarot?" He could hear the stupid question coming.

"Where are your clothes?"

Vegeta closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. "They got badly mangled in the fight."

"Oh." A long pause. "Um, do… would you want to borrow… well, my shirt's still… kinda not too badly ripped up."

Vegeta planted his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands, thanking the gods of the Saiyans that Kakarot had given him the senzu before digging him out. The wounds he'd incurred… they were something the child-like warrior didn't need to know about. "Thank you."

There was a rustling of cloth, a few hisses of pain. The blue training shirt was presented to him. "The orange is in worse shape, and you always wear blue anyway, or black…" The hesitant voice trailed off. "Vegeta?"

He took the shirt, pulled it over his head. Tall as Kakarot was, the shirt barely managed to cover enough to make him decent. The weight of it surprised him a little, he hadn't ever thought much of the weighted clothes Kakarot invariably wore. No wonder the man was so strong! "It will do."

"Good." Goku leaned against the rubble, his good arm pressed tightly against his ribs. "Glad I could help."

Vegeta noted the pain in the other's voice and finally took a good look at him. "Kakarot! Good gods, and you were digging me out?!"

"Had to be done." Goku slumped a little. "But if it's all right with you, I think I'll rest now."

"Do that." Vegeta looked around. If his boots were nearby… ah! He levitated just above the rocks, floating over to the speck of white, pulling it free. He removed a senzu, then pulled the boot on, finding the other on his way back to Kakarot. "Let me straighten you out."

"Huh?" Goku's bewilderment quickly changed to pain as Vegeta straightened the twisted, broken leg, and the arm.

"Your ribs are probably close enough to where they should be. Here." Vegeta held out the small bean.

"A senzu?" Goku swallowed, then sighed with relief. "Oh, that feels much better!"

"I'm pleased to hear it," Vegeta replied dryly. He contented himself with looking around the battlefield. It had been a pretty meadow before they had fought. Now, jagged cliffs rose to varying heights with chasms and burned ground everywhere. He heard Kakarot rise, felt the man behind him.

"What do we do now, Vegeta?" His voice was that of a lost child. "Everyone's gone."

The tall crest of his hair drooped as he hung his head, scowling at the ground. "Not everyone. We're still alive. There are still people left on this planet who need our protection."

"You… you're right." Vegeta didn't need to look to know the old fire was back in the other's eyes. "There are people who need our help."

"First, though, we must replenish our strength. The wounds are healed," he shuddered, knowing he didn't quite speak the truth, "but our strength is still gone. We have to find something to eat and a place to sleep."

"No… first, we better take care of the others." Goku gestured toward the battlefield.

There was no one. They went from town to town, village to village, and found no one left alive. Farms were decorated with the remains of the farming families. Hermit caves (and islands) were blood drenched. They'd been to the Lookout, finding nothing but bloody remains, with crude jokes written on the walls in the blood of their companions. Dende's head had been on a stick.

Nowhere did they find the warriors they had fought. In very few places were they able to find houses that hadn't been blasted apart. Fields and herds were decimated, lakes and ponds completely fouled, the fish dead and dying. Rivers were filled with decaying bodies of various animals. Goku's smiles were long gone, Vegeta's need for vengeance never higher.

But there was no one to fight, and no one to save.

They returned at last to the site of Goku's home, the tiny house destroyed beyond repair. Goku salvaged the few things that hadn't been completely destroyed. From there, they went to the great waste that had once been Capsule Corporation.

Vegeta dug carefully through the rubble, stacking each piece he removed carefully away from the rest. Bodies were scattered throughout the wreckage, he found himself recognizing servants and CC employees he hadn't realized he knew the names of. Goku buried them. One building at a time, they sorted through the remains.

Most of the bodies they found were in places where people wouldn't be if there had been any warning. Vegeta worked grimfaced and silent, knowing it was only a matter of time before he found his wife and grandchildren. The girls had been too young to fight, only four and five years old. Bulma had stayed home to watch them. No one had thought the fighters would have any trouble routing the enemy. It had been years since a enemy had come, but no one had ever fought this group and won.

The basement of the last building. Vegeta cleared it slowly, knowing this was the last place to look. The three would be here. He moved a beam, a piece of something that could have been floor or ceiling. A large bit of insulation. A tiny blue shoe that had belonged to the older granddaughter he tucked into the clothing Kakarot had found for him. He found his wife.

She had had warning, he could tell. She held one of the new weapons she had been working on, and had used it. She hadn't survived the attackers, and they had used her badly. He pulled her body gently from the rubble, carrying her to where Kakarot was burying the last person he had found.

"Veg… oh. Bulma!" Sorrow in his voice, a pain more profound than when they'd found his wife. "Here. Over here, Vegeta." He lead the way to a grave dug separately from the others. "I thought you might want her away from the others, if she hadn't made it."

"Thank you." Vegeta laid her carefully in the hole, seeing to her burial himself. Then, tears streaming unregarded down his face, he went back to find his granddaughters.


	2. Sad Goku

Well, like I said in the note I replaced with this, it skips a bunch of years. And the stories are different enough not to mesh easily, so I'll just grab my reviews from chappy 1 and fill you in.

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Nasiya: I sincerely hope this part doesn't go into cheesy land. As for the attackers, well this snippet is from version 2:

They'd come for him. He had destroyed their homes, their families, or their worlds, when he had not been the master of his own fate. They had heard that he now _defended_ a planet, and had joined together to destroy the planet and him.

"They weren't expecting your family, or mine. They only knew about me. But that they took down the others so quickly…" His voice had broken. "No one I fought, no planet I destroyed, had fighters strong enough to do that. I don't know who or what those warriors are…" Again, his voice broke. He didn't like talking about those warriors, and I knew why. They'd raped him, breaking his arms and legs so he couldn't fight back or get away. Raped him until he'd lost consciousness, and still been at it when he regained it. They'd left only when he had stopped screaming at them, stopped caring what they did to him. It had taken days.

So, anyway, they were after revenge. And technically, version 2 is different enough I could post it on its own.

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Otaku: Um, well….

"Mitzu! Mitzu! Come on, Mitzu! Vegeta and I are hungry!"

"Oh, all right, Kakarot." Mitzu climbed down from the tree, holding the bananas she'd gone after behind her back. "Greedy monkey. You can wait until we get to the table."

"Mitzu!" Goku sounded crushed. "Why do you have to be so mean?"

"Mean? I'm not. You are greedy." She relented just enough to smile up at him.

"That's not what I meant." Goku turned and went back into the capsule house, his limp more pronounced than usual. He also had one hand pressed against his hip.

"Kakarot." Goku turned to Vegeta. "Get me a drink."

"Sure thing, Vegeta." Goku snagged a pitcher, going outside to the well. Fresh water poured from bucket to pitcher, a nice sparkling stream that dazzled the eyes. A second bucketful, Goku dumped over his own head before taking the drink back into the prince. "Here you go."

"Is your leg bothering you?"

Goku couldn't help glancing quickly toward Vegeta, who sneered at him. "I'm fine, Vegeta."

"Oh, Kakarot…" Mitzu singsonged. "The bananas are ready."

"I do hope the meat is ready as well," Vegeta growled.

"Of course, Grandpa." The girl proved it by serving her grandfather a huge portion with one banana on the side.

Goku forced himself not to limp as he went to the table to get a plate for himself. He didn't get much of the meat, so the bananas scorned by Vegeta and Mitzu made up most of his meal.

The three Saiyans ate with a will, though Goku had only one plate. Goku took empty plates to the sink, carefully washing them as Mitzu and Vegeta continued to eat. His stomach might rumble later - more than once, his stomach had waked the entire household. Often, he slept outside so that his hunger wouldn't be so noticeable.

Goku trained rigorously, and did most of the work around the house. He never raised his voice, meekly accepting the insults and condemnation that both Mitzu and Vegeta gave him. His eyes were often sad, although he smiled incessantly. And he always lied about his leg bothering him.

He washed up the remaining supper dishes, dried them, and put them away. He cleaned off the small table. The floor was swept, the table set for the morning's breakfast. He refilled the water pitcher, and filled the large jug . He restocked the firewood by the grate, then went outside again to replenish the woodpile next to the porch.

Vegeta had taken Mitzu out for an evening of hunting. What they brought back, Goku would be expected to clean and prepare for tomorrow's breakfast. For now, he was out hunting up the chickens that ran semi-wild around the house. The eggs he found would also be part of breakfast, as would any okra or tomatoes that were ripe in the garden. He had the job of tending to the garden, as well. And tomorrow, he would be doing the laundry.

So many years. Goku sat back in the tub, easing his leg a bit more. So many years had passed. They'd found Mitzu alive, something neither of them had expected. Bulma had hidden her in a pantry at the end of the long hall she'd died in. Kindra, her sister, had been killed by the blast that had destroyed the buildings, Mitzu had been fine.

And now, Mitzu was just like her grandfather. Goku leaned his head back, staring up at the few stars in the darkening sky. His limp was a source of amusement and scorn for them both, and his injured hip. He had agreed to a training session for her, had broken both hip and leg during it, dashed to the ground in a combination attack by the two of them. He hadn't healed right, living now in a constant pain that he tried desperately to conceal.

So far, he had done that well enough. He trained. He worked. And he forced himself not to limp, not to show the weakness. But sometimes, like tonight, he wasn't able to do that. Only he knew just how badly he had healed, if it could honestly be called healing. Sometimes, he believed he could still feel the bones grating together, though the injury had occurred nearly seven years before.

Seven years of continuous pain. Seven years of being inferior. He hadn't beaten Vegeta once in the seven years since, though he had been the stronger of the two. Now, all Vegeta had to do to win was get in a blow to his hip or leg. Goku still trained just as much as he ever had, but the pain had ruined him, rendered him useless in a true fight. Vegeta knew it, and rubbed it in his face. It had been over three years since the prince had last challenged him to spar.

Mitzu kept him here. He had helped raise the girl - had done more raising than the less experienced Vegeta had. He lifted his head, turning to look toward the girl's window. His expressive eyes filled with a deep sorrow. He sighed, slipping below the surface of the water to wash his hair. And was suddenly struggling to get back up as a hand landed on top of his head, keeping him underwater.

"He's a weakling."

"Yes." Something pulling on his hair, voices dim in his ears. It was a struggle to breath, much less get his eyes open. He managed. It was important to see. "Oh, he's awake."

Snapping black eyes stared down at him from a sharply pointed face framed by lavender hair. Another pair of mocking onyx eyes regarded him, these belonging to a man. "How do you feel, Kakarot?"

He struggled to speak, couldn't.

"He's too weak to even manage a reply." The man was positively scathing. His head hit the ground with a thud as the girl released his hair, her own mocking laughter joining the man's. "Let's go to bed. Leave him."

He trained. Harder and harder, forcing himself to endure. Collapsing in a sobbing heap when the pain became too much to bear. He pulled weeds from the garden, harvested the produce. He chased the chickens into a pen he built. His cooking continued to improve. He figured out how to make jams and jellies, how to can the vegetables and fruits he grew and harvested. He built a small storage shed. The clothes that had finally become tattered beyond his ability to repair he replaced with new garments he made himself over the winter.

The sadness grew more pronounced in his eyes, his smile began to falter and slip. He no longer noticed the small joys of seeing the perfect snowflake, or the sparkle of an icicle in the sun. He didn't make a snowman, as he had in previous years, or fashion snowballs to juggle. Time passed.

He gardened, he fished. He went about his chores with a kind of listless relentlessness that almost scary in its apathetic intenseness. He took absolutely no pride in anything he accomplished, no matter what it was.

His care of Vegeta and Mitzu never faltered. His care of the children they produced was equally superb. When he had toilet trained them, their parents removed them to the new house they'd put up. He saw them only rarely then. His once great spirit shriveled up and died, as he became a nearly silent husk of a man who rarely smiled and never laughed.

No hint of any emotion seemed to be present anymore. There was no anger, or sorrow, no joy, no despair. He just… lived, speaking only when forced to. He trained, the fierce intensity sinking into apathy as soon as he would fall to the ground. The children he raised took him on, exploited the old wounds to beat him within moments of beginning to spar.


	3. Unhappy circumstance

She was a slender wraith of a thing, no more to her than thistledown. Her older brothers and sisters cared for nothing but sparring and hunting, but young Deana didn't like messing up the pretty dresses her family's servant made for her. She spent more time at his little cottage than she did with her parents and siblings.

This morning, she was going to get some dresses mended. Her younger brother had turned his puppy loose in her room, and the animal had made a mess of her favorite dress and damaged several others. She knocked politely.

"Hi Deana." The large bundle of material in Deana's hands caught his eye. "What's that?"

She proceeded with her rendition of what had happened to her pretty dresses. Goku took them over to his sewing corner to salvage what he could.

"Kakarot."

Two pairs of eyes swung toward the door. Vegeta allowed them a moment to take in his appearance. "Uh, Vegeta?"

Vegeta stared at the other a moment, taking in the dresses in his lap, the hand that was pressed to the hip. "Outside."

Goku laid the dresses carefully aside, and rose slowly. His progress across the room was slower than usual as he attempted to hide his limp again. He followed Vegeta out the door, and to the gate that separated the two houses. "What is it?"

One lightening fast move, and Goku slumped at Vegeta's feet, both hands pressed to where Vegeta had kicked his bad leg. "Shut-up, clown. I will tell you when to speak." Vegeta stared down at Goku. "You are weak. Worthless as a warrior."

Goku bowed his head, too dizzy with the pain to really understand what Vegeta was saying. Broken… his leg was broken. He stifled a cry of pain when Vegeta kicked him again. "Unfortunately, my children need mates. You are the only male available not directly related. You will mate with my daughters and my granddaughters."

That penetrated the pain-haze. Goku's head snapped up, his mouth dropping open in astonishment. Vegeta smacked him casually, smashing him into the dirt and jarring the broken leg. He whimpered, a tiny tendril of sound. Vegeta kicked his side, lifting him several feet to crash back against unforgiving earth. "You will do this."

Vegeta turned on his heel, leaving the battered Saiyan in the dirt. Goku gasped, trying to regain his breath and his wits. Vegeta could not have been serious. He pulled himself slowly to a sitting position, tried to tell how much damage Vegeta's attack had done. It was only when Mitzu pushed him back down that he realized that Vegeta had not been joking.

He was in his own bed when he finally woke, his broken bones splinted. Pain lanced through his body when he tried to move, provoking an involuntary groan.

"You're awake!" Deana exclaimed.

He couldn't seem to focus on her, and finally gave up. "How did I get here?"

"Oh, Mitzu brought you. You didn't fair very well in the latest training session."

Grey fog. He fought it, managing to clear his mind enough to realize what she was, if not who she was. "Get away! Stay away from me!"

Deana rocked backward in shock at the sheer terror in his voice. "What is wrong, Kakarot?"

"Stay away, stay away…" His voice faded with his mind, and he lapsed back into unconsciousness.

No one near. He forced himself up, ignoring the pain of cracked and broken ribs, leg, and wrist. Through the pain, he gathered his energy, levitating himself carefully off the bed into a semi-upright position. Blood flowed from the lip he bit through to keep from crying out.

He raised two fingers to his forehead, searching his memory for the feel of the place he wanted. He found it, matched it, and vanished. Goku looked around him, the overgrown grass, the ivy climbing over and through broken walls. He saw a place that would serve him as a shelter while he healed, and quickly concealed himself, dropping his chi as low as he dared.

Pain was his only constant. His vision faded in and out, his bouts of awareness were even more spotty. It didn't matter if he could see or not, or if he was waking or going to sleep, he hurt. Goku moved as little as he possibly could, in fact, he moved only when the spot he was lying in was too disgusting to take anymore. He ate whatever was within his reach, usually grass or leaves, sometimes a bug, once or twice a mouse. He paid no particular attention to anything except hiding himself from casual view.

It never occurred to him to realize that the smell would give him away.

Deana stared in consternation at the filthy, noisome thing lying in a pool of its own excrement. This couldn't be Kakarot! But it couldn't be anyone else - there was no one else. She picked her way carefully around the mess to crouch daintily by his head. "Kakarot?"

Dark eyes blazed at her momentarily, then closed again. She touched one finger very carefully against his forehead, trying not to get any ick on her. He burned, she frowned. "This isn't right, Kakarot. You're all icky, and hot."

"Leave me… alone."

She moved away, hurt and confused. Kakarot had always enjoyed her visits. What had happened that he would consider her a threat? He had been so scared of her earlier, and even now, still was. What had happened to him? Deana sat back, considering. She wasn't stupid, after all. She should be able to figure it out. _It has to have something to do with Daddy's visit, or the training. Funny, Daddy didn't tell me there would be a training session with Kakarot, and usually he does, since I **will **train with him. And it was _all_ girls. Daddy never does that._

Her mind spun, piecing the bits together. A fragment of memory, an overheard conversation. Her eyes widened in horror. "Oh, Kakarot!" She dropped her own chi as low as his, and proceeded to drag his unwilling self from hiding. Her first act after getting him out of the hole he'd been in was to drop him in the creek.

"Stop fighting me, Kakarot! You reek. The girls will find you easily if I don't get the stench off!" The spirit to fight vanished as suddenly as it had come. She scrubbed and scrubbed at him, cleansing him of things she didn't even want to think about. "If you were trying to hide, you didn't do a very good job," she complained as she worked the muck out of his hair. "Daddy sent me here. He said it was the most likely spot."

"Can't stay." His eyes were dark with suppressed fear, bright with fever.

"No, of course not. I'm eleven, not stupid." She shoved him underwater, mussed his hair, and dragged him back up. "That does it. You don't stink nearly as bad now. Your clothes, on the other hand, have to go."

"No!" He got as far as the shore before passing out. The girl drug him onto the bank. She had to hide him, someplace where her father and sisters, and her mother, couldn't find him. Her brothers probably wouldn't care, but well… it wasn't like she knew anything about this planet! This was the first time she'd been so far from home in her life.

Deana sighed, looking down at the naked form at her feet. What was she to do with him? She hadn't lied about his clothes, they were beyond revolting. A tiny blast of chi, and they were ash. So, where does one hide a naked, sick, broken Saiyan? One who was still keeping his chi suppressed? A glimmer of mischief lit her eyes. She knelt next to him, raising two fingers to her forehead. "I knew badgering you to teach me this would come in handy."

Deana drug him into the shower. Warm water was soon cascading over Goku's form, the girl sudsing him since he still stank. "You were right where Daddy thought you would be, too. Hiding, and afraid of me. Why would you be afraid of me, Kakarot? Is it because I was right?

"But why didn't Daddy try to make me do it?" She was drying the man by then, rubbing furiously at his mass of hair to get the water out. Deana checked over his injuries, pleased that in spite of the noisome, disgusting circumstances she'd found him in, he'd healed fairly well. She bandaged what wounds hadn't healed. "Now, that takes care of that. What do we do now? I won't let them do this again, Kakarot! I won't."

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And here is where writer's block kicked in. so, I will post version 2, all on it's ownsome, since it's just that much different, and think about what to have Deana do with Goku. Suggestions are welcomed.


	4. For the children

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Nasiya: Rats. I'll have to come up with something. Oh, the horror. Of course, if you're reading this, I thought of something. Hope it's good! Okay, I've got all the versions up. Lemme look a minute -

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Version 1: Version 4, only the second granddaughter survived, paralyzed from the waist down. When Mitzu moves out with Vegeta, Kindra stays with Goku. There were more details, mostly surrounding Kindra (most of her thoughts I managed to retain anyway). It ended at the same spot.

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Version 2: Version 2 & Version 3 are the same, with one exception: In 3, Goten doesn't have a clue who he is until the end of the story. Vegeta calls him Kakarot all the way through it, never tells him who he really is. In 2, he just goes along with it.

I'm glad you liked _We Lost, _too. I figured since it was going to take the narrator awhile to learn who he was, and he was narrating, it wasn't fair for the audience to know before he did!

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r: I know, I know, you didn't review this one. I'm just hoping you jumped over here to see what was up. Goku died in _We Lost_. There were 3 warriors in orange & blue. Goten got banged in the head and couldn't fight, and watched & described how both Goku & Gohan died. It was… messy.

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DarkSerapha: *examines under microscope* Ah-ha! You just want him for yourself! So, go read _Nightmare Journey_ and tell me if I'm more evil to Goku or to Vegeta. Oh, drat. You're reading _Unforgivable_ too… eh, tell me anyway! And _We Lost_, that one goes after Vegeta again…

*blinks* Well. I put those notes up there shortly after reading the reviews. They've been sitting there, patiently waiting, ever since. For some reason, until I downloaded (backed up) my reviews, I thought this story was complete. Oops.

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In the end, her plan was both ridiculously simple and excruciatingly dangerous. She decided to keep him in his own little cottage, and claim it as her own. Feeling her father's chi, she shoved Kakarot under the bed and told him not to make so much as a hint of a sound.

She sat in Kakarot's sewing corner, a dress in her lap, threaded needle in her hand. And, in spite of her nerves being on edge, managed not to jump and run when her father shoved the door open. She didn't so much as look up, instead sticking her tongue out the corner of her mouth and making a tentative stitch.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Fixing my dress. I have to - Kakarot ran away!" She made another stitch, a feeling of almost triumph filling her: She'd never sewn anything before, and her father looked like he was about to have a fit.

"Didn't I tell you to go look for him?"

"I did. There's nobody at that old ruin." Deana shot an irritated look at her father. "That was such an icky place, Daddy! I didn't like it at all! And I'm not going out again. There isn't any reason for me to, anyhow. Kakarot ran away from me - and he liked it when I came to visit.

"I'm not a stupid girl, Daddy. I know what you had Mama and the girls do. I'm just surprised you didn't tell me to help."

Vegeta glared at her. "You're too young."

"I am quite old enough to have a child, Daddy, I've been menstruating for a year now." She hid her smile at his look of disgust. "And I am very upset that you thought I was a baby. I think I'll just stay here and prove I'm not."

"What?"

Deana rather enjoyed the flabbergasted look on her father's face. "I said, I'll stay here and prove I'm not." She returned her attention to the dress, her hair falling to hide her face as she continued her mending. "It's not like Kakarot will be coming back voluntarily, and he's hidden long enough now that I think he'll be gone awhile.

"Since he won't need this house anymore, and I'm the only one of your children who isn't interested in all that fighting, I'm going to stay right here. Mama thinks I'm a baby, too, Daddy, so what would she say if I told her you did to me what she did to Kakarot?" she added conversationally when her father moved toward her.

Vegeta rocked back, then turned and stormed from the tiny house. Deana ran for the bathroom, and tossed her last few meals. After cleaning up, she dropped to her knees next to the bed. "Kaky? I need to leave you under there for awhile. I just made Daddy really mad…"

"'s okay. Heard you." Goku shifted his battered body slightly, compressing his chi further. Nimble fingers danced down his arm, he couldn't stop his involuntary shudder.

Deana sighed, then quickly scooted back to the sewing corner. She swung the discarded dress over her lap, and was taking careful stitches - if unsteady ones - when the door opened. "Hello, Mother."

"Where is he, Deana?"

"Who?"

"Kakarot."

She looked up at her mother. "He had been to that nasty old ruin, even I could tell that. Maybe one of you great hunters could find him."

Mitzu examined her daughter carefully. "Did you see him there, Deana?"

"Yes, Mother, I saw him there. How else would I know? He wasn't there when I left, though."

"You're wet."

"I took a shower. That place was so icky! Piles of yuck just everywhere, and the smell! I had to get it off me!"

"Your father says you plan to live here."

"Yes, Mama. The two of you always treat me like a baby! I'm not." Deana put on her pouty face. "Like I told Daddy, Kakarot won't come back voluntarily. I can stay right here and prove I'm no baby." She held up her dress. "Besides, everything I could possibly need is here."

"You remind me a bit of my grandmother, and my father. I do not care if you stay here, Deana. Your brothers and sisters were taking care of themselves long before now."

Deana snorted. "No, they didn't. Kakarot took care of them. Do you think I've missed all their whining about their food not being ready and their clothes still being torn? I trained with Kakarot, Mama, but he didn't just teach me how to hit somebody. I can cook, and sew a little, and I know how to take care of the garden and the animals." There was no way in the world she was admitting to her mother that she hadn't learned any of that through actual lessons, but through watching the man on his daily rounds. "And no, I will not take care of everyone else. If they want cows or chickens or a garden, they can get their own, I claimed these!"

Mitzu rose. "Very well, Deana. I'll inform your father I am in perfect accord with your plan." A hint of a smile escaped. "And you are right about the whining. This latest turn should provide quite the competition!"

"Competition?"

"Well of course," her mother said from the door. "You don't seriously think the other children are going to let the weakest member of the family get away with having total independence first, do you?"

"Ha!" Deana replied scornfully, eyes flashing. "They'll come begging me to take care of their clothes, or to fix them something to eat."

Her mother just laughed, and left. Deana sat back in her chair, took a deep breath. "Well. OH! MY THINGS!" She passed her mother as a little blur, packed up her personal things, and darted them back down to the cottage by the time her eldest siblings had returned.

"Kaky?" She closed all the curtains in the bedroom before pulling Kakarot from under the bed and putting him in it. He was still very hot, and although his eyes opened, she wasn't too sure he recognized her. "Kakarot?"

"Water?"

"Oh! Of course!" Deana darted down the small hallway to the kitchen, filling a clean glass and taking it back to him. Then back to the kitchen, where she fumbled her way through making some soup. While it cooked, she went outside to really look at Kakarot's home.

The house was in good repair, she knew he'd recently repaired the roof. The flower beds around it needed weeded, and the yard needed a trim, but all-in-all, the place was in good shape.

The garden was huge, and in sore need of weeding. No one had tended it the entire time Kakarot had been missing. Nor, she discovered, had the eggs been gathered or the cows tended. She tossed all the eggs in the compost pile, unwilling to discover the hard way which ones were fresh and which weren't.

Most of the animals were still fine, it took her awhile to understand the cows were crying because they needed milked. She took care of that, checking on her soup each time she carried a bucket of milk to put in the refrigerator. The goats came next. She scattered feed for the fowls, climbed up into the barn to send hay down for the rest of the animals. And when she went back inside that time, the soup was finally ready to eat.

She fed Kakarot first, her mind busily trying to figure out how to deal with such a lot of creatures and that monstrous garden. Of course, Kakarot had raised enough to supply her entire family, she knew well enough he kept for himself only what he considered unfit for Vegeta's table. Except… why?

"Kakarot?"

"More?"

"Yes you can have more. But… why do you serve - did you serve - my family?"

He looked up at her. Soft bed, clean, warm and comfortable for the first time in a long time. He'd been fed and given something to drink. He was still feverish, but no longer frightened out of his wits. "'Geta… needed me. To raise Mitzu."

"Mama grew up a long time ago."

"Truffle didn't."

Truffle was her youngest brother, a little bundle of energy who had moved up to the main house the year before. She remembered him crying for Kakarot, now he was just like his older siblings. All of whom, she realized suddenly, Kakarot had raised. Herself included.

"You stayed for the children? For us?"

"You needed me." He pushed the soup away when she offered it, turning to face the curtained window. "I would have come back. My… my children will need me, too."

The pain in his voice was so thick her eyes teared. She hadn't really thought about that, hadn't thought beyond keeping him safe from her family. But what her family had done would extend his, and he was one who took the responsibility of children seriously. "Kakarot?"

"What?"

"Why aren't there more people?" A question that had plagued her much of her admittedly short existence.

"There used to be, a long time ago." He laid quietly back against the pillows, not looking at her. "I had a wife, two sons, a granddaughter. I had friends, long ago. Once, your father was my friend."

"What happened?"

He lifted a hand, wearily, rested it on her knee. "Another time, Deana… I'm so tired…" His eyes drifted shut as he spoke, his breathing lapsing shortly after into that of rest.

A rest he was in sore need of, so Deana gathered up their dishes and took them to be washed. She settled back down, continuing her attempt to repair her dress, while she considered her next course of action. And this time, she included the nieces and nephews that would be arriving.

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	5. The war in short

Goku didn't sleep long. He couldn't. He was too hot, and too hungry, to sleep. The bed was soft, unlike the ground he'd been bedded down on. And it was clean. A far cry from what he'd woken that morning to find himself it. How he'd managed to heal as well as he had in such conditions, he wasn't sure.

But he was grateful. Carefully, he tested himself. He'd mended. Not well, perhaps, but he wouldn't know that until he wasn't so weak. The thought of getting out of the bed for anything was enough to make him whimper. Slowly, he catalogued his various aches, determining just how badly off he truly was.

He came to the rather astonishing conclusion that he wasn't all that badly off. Most of the aches were just that. None seemed to indicate something worse, even the familiar pain in his leg and hip seemed less than usual.

Goku closed his eyes. Deana's questions plagued him. Yes, he'd stayed. He could have left after Mitzu grew up, but he'd stayed. When he'd been broken all those years ago, Vegeta hadn't cared for him, nor had Mitzu. It was as if all the assistance he'd given them meant nothing. He'd managed getting around well enough by flying, but his soul had been scarred by the callous disregard.

Once, he and Vegeta had been friends. They'd sparred, gone to family gatherings, even just sat around and talked. When the world had ended, he'd naturally stayed with Vegeta and Mitzu. There wasn't anyone else. But somehow, he'd lost Vegeta's friendship and respect. With it had gone Mitzu's childish love. He didn't know how, he couldn't even pinpoint when. It had just happened.

It had happened with each of the children. He raised them, taught them, loved and cuddled them. He hadn't often smiled or laughed, but he had let them know they were loved. But within a year, each had begun to scorn him. Each child had given him a fresh soul-scar with each taunt, every exploitation of his injuries. He didn't understand, couldn't understand. Only Deana had been different.

Tears welled in his eyes when he realized it was about to happen all over again. Only this time, it would be worse. This time, it would be his children that scorned and mocked him, his children who would take advantage of his weakness. It would be his children, his own flesh and blood, who would order him around like he had less intelligence than the animals he cared for, his children who would break his heart.

His children would not call him daddy. They would not be proud of him. He would be Kakarot, the family servant, and unless, like Goten, they looked like him, they would probably never know that he was their true father.

No. No. Surely Vegeta didn't mean to take it that far. Did he? He stifled a moan.

"Kakarot?"

"That isn't my name." He turned to face her, a sudden resolve on his face. "My name is Goku."

"Goku?" Deana looked puzzled. "But, we have always called you Kakarot."

"I know."

"Does this have something to do with why we're the only ones around?"

"Yes."

"Are you still too tired to tell me about it?" She approached slowly, trying not to slosh the items on the tray she held.

"I'm still tired, but I can't sleep."

"I thought you might still be hungry. You didn't eat very much. I know I don't cook very well, but I brought you some more anyway. And a glass of milk."

"How did you escape?" he murmured.

"Escape what?"

"Hating me. Scorning me the way the others do."

"I have little interest in fighting or hunting, and as my mother so calmly pointed out, I'm the weakest in the family. You trained me, and you took care to explain why or how something was supposed to work, instead of just bashing me down and laughing at me because I screwed up!" Deana smiled slightly. "You never minded being interrupted to hear my woes of the day, or to fix one of my dresses, or complained because I was following you around all the time.

"Besides, I think you're cute," she added, then gasped. "Oh, you probably didn't want to hear that! Not after what happened."

"Not really," he admitted. His hand wavered as he lifted the cup to his lips. He drank all the milk before setting the cup unsteadily back on the tray. "I think that I better try to sleep."

"Oh. Well, alright. I'll… put the soup in the fridge."

"Deana."

"Yes?"

He heard the eagerness in her tone. "I will tell you… in the morning."

"Okay!"

Goku made himself comfortable against the pillows. How was he to tell that child of all that had transpired, leaving Vegeta and his daughter the only two survivors besides himself? How could he explain to her why he had stayed, and why he had never used his own name for her entire life? Would she understand? And did it truly matter if she did?

He sent his senses seeking the others, finding and identifying all the children, finding Mitzu. Vegeta… where was Vegeta? Oh, there. At the Lookout. He pushed further… and found no one else. So it had always been, since the end of the war. The attackers had been quite thorough in their destruction of intelligent life, and had done almost as well on the animals and ecosystem. How was he to tell that little girl about the horrors the invaders had inflicted?

By morning, he had gotten some sleep. When she came, he reminded her gently of the creatures she now had in her care. "The animals suffered, too, during the war. These few I have are descendants of ones I found when your father and I searched for survivors. They must be cared for, Deana, so that someday, they will flourish again."

"Water, then feed, milk, then gather eggs, right?"

"Yes."

"And the garden? Do I take care of that before I get my history lesson?"

"No. I will tell you over breakfast."

She went out to tend her charges. Goku propped himself up a bit more. He felt better. Decent food and decent care, although little enough of both. Could so little make so much difference? He had relatively few bandages, but then, most of his wounds hadn't been external. What was bandaged were scrapes and cuts he'd gotten moving from one place to another.

The new breaks in his leg had healed, but the leg was weak. He wouldn't be able to stand on it. And his hip didn't seem to pain him as much as usual. He tested the other bones he knew the women had broken. All of them seemed to have healed. How long had he been missing before Vegeta had sent them searching for him? And why had the man bothered? He'd gotten what he wanted! Hadn't he?

Deana's return broke him from those thoughts. She'd brought him a plate of scrambled eggs and another glass of milk. "So?" she asked, perching on the bed. "Tell me what happened. Why we are the only ones left."

He started with the easiest answer first. "We're the only ones left because Vegeta and I were believed to be dead. Mitzu is alive because we survived and dug her out of the basement where she was trapped in a pantry full of food.

"I don't know who the attackers were. None of us knew they were coming, we sensed nothing until the carnage began. I don't know why they came, or why they've never returned. It happened… a long time ago. Your mother had recently had her fifth birthday. I never really have kept track of time well, so I don't know how long ago that was."

"That's okay, Kaky. Tantrum's thirty. I'll guess it was about forty-five years or so."

"Tantrum's thirty? Time has gone by…" Goku nibbled at his breakfast. He really didn't want to remember this. "I had a wife, back then. Two boys, a daughter-in-law, and a granddaughter. Vegeta's wife was Bulma, and they had two children, a boy, Trunks, and their daughter, Bra. Trunks had given them two granddaughters, Mitzu and Kindra.

"Earth Special Forces, Z-fighters, Z-shenshi. We've protected the planet under those names. Not all of us were from Earth, or human. Vegeta and I are Saiyans from the planet Vegeta. Dende was from Namek, and Piccolo was an Earth-born Namekian. Gohan, Goten, Trunks, Bra, Pan… they were demi-Saiyans, all born on Earth. Yamcha, Bulma, Krillin, Tien… they were all Earthlings. 18 was an android, built here on Earth. We were a team, loosely connected, but a force to be reckoned with."

He paused a moment. "We had get-togethers at Master Roshi's island. Eat, drink, spar… just general fun. Almost all of us kept up our training so that we would be ready if something happened to threaten our home. It happened a lot, back then. Forty-five years… Earth's been peaceful a very long time. Back then, something seemed to happen almost every three years."

"Kaky…" Deana curled up next to him and rested her head on his chest. "If you don't want to tell me, it's okay."

"No, you have the right to know. You have that right, it is your history." But he was quiet a long time, stroking through the pale lavender hair. "You inherited Trunks' hair, and your Grandma Bulma's eyes. Vegeta's children didn't look all that much like him, really. Trunks, in the face, some, but Bra didn't at all. Trunks was taller than Vegeta, and had light purple hair, blue eyes. Bra was the spitting image of her mom, blue hair, blue eyes. They got all their parent's attitude, as well, and their brains. Smart kids.

"Trunks was a born fighter, Bra a born shopper. Vegeta saw to it that they were both trained, and Trunks often helped fight when it was necessary. Bra wouldn't unless she absolutely had to. I don't know if they were born without tails, or if Bulma saw to it that they were cut off, but I never saw either of them with one.

"My wife and I had two sons. Gohan was the scholar. He could fight, easily holding his own against your father if he wanted to. He was born with a tail, but when he was young, we had it removed. He looked kinda like me, and something like his mother. A good blend of us both, I guess. He married a fighter named Videl, and they had a little girl named Pan. Pan was about two years younger than Bra, a tomboy, and wasn't about to pass up any adventure or fight that came her way.

"Goten was a miniature me, and a year younger than his best friend, Trunks. He was a good fighter, a strong one. I was dead when he was born, and his whole life, I never did see him with a tail"

Deana wrapped her tail around his wrist. "Does it bother you that we all have tails and you don't?"

"No. I made the choice to allow mine to be removed. I wasn't really all that old… twelve or thirteen, I suppose, when I gave it up. And I can't say I really miss it. I know I don't miss people grabbing it."

The tail whipped from his wrist to wrap tightly around her waist. "Ugh! No kidding!"

"Yeah. A Namek, like Piccolo and Dende, are tall, bald, green men with antennas. Their race has no females, and the males reproduce by spitting big eggs out of their throats."

"EWWWW!"

"Piccolo was the warrior. Dende was the guardian of Earth, and a healer." He went on, describing the rest of the friends he had lost so many years ago, his voice poignant and plaintive. "They were good friends, and they all died when the enemy came.

"We had no warning at all. No one felt them approach. They were just there all of the sudden, with power levels that exceeded most of ours. Wherever we were able to feel them, we could feel others dying.

"We all raced toward them, of course. Even Bra. There were more of them than of us, but we were used to uneven odds. At first, we were winning. We took out a lot of their fighters by teaming up on them. All of the Saiyans were able to go super, all the males could make it to the second level, and I could make it to the third. So could Gotenks, but Trunks and Goten only managed to fuse twice before the enemy learned to keep them from completing the fusion.

"We Saiyans were the last to start dying. Trunks fell first, and Goten not long after. Vegeta was blasted out of the sky, and I was going to help him when they got me. I found my oldest son the next day, with the girls behind him. He'd been dead awhile, but their bodies were still warm. I hadn't gotten to them in time. I kept looking, because I hadn't found Vegeta yet.

"I finally found him, and gave him a senzu. He found another one for me. We buried our families, and set out to find the men who had destroyed them. All we ever found was more bodies, until we got back to Capsule Corp. Your mother was the only other person, besides us, who survived.

"The invaders had killed everyone. They'd left Vegeta and I for dead, had blasted the building where Mitzu was hiding to rubble. Her sister had died in the blasts, she'd been injured, but survived. They'd slaughtered livestock, destroyed farms, burned the forests and thrown carcasses into every waterhole, river and creek. They'd blasted oil tankers on the oceans. Anything they could destroy… they destroyed.

"We stayed at the ruins of Capsule Corporation for months, until we'd managed to recover our strength. Then we set out again with all the supplies we had managed to find, and started looking for survivors again. We found none, and finally settled here. In all these years, I've never felt another survivor."

Goku shifted a bit. "Now, Deana, you have chores to tend to."

"What?"

"There's dishes to wash, clothes to mend, animals to tend, and a garden to weed. You've chosen to be independent. And I'm afraid that right now… I can't help except to tell you what to do."

"Oh." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. You went from the story to chores… Ka - Goku, how old are you?"

"I don't know. I never really have. Older than you?" he offered.

Deana giggled. "Okay, old man. I'll get to work."


	6. Responsibility of a Prince

The first thing she discovered was that her pretty dresses were completely unsuitable for independent living. And the second was that her siblings were even worse than she'd thought. The second sent her in tears to Goku.

When she had finished her story, he smiled sadly. "Ah, Deana… I'm sorry. I can't do anything to help you."

"But then, what do I do? They've practically destroyed or taken everything."

Goku closed his eyes. When he opened them, a flame of resigned amusement lit them. "Go to your father. Demand an audience with the Saiyan Prince. Demand that the Prince of all Saiyans rule his subjects and administer justice in his kingdom, or step down."

"What?"

"Your father is the Saiyan Prince Vegeta. He'll know I'm alive and that you've seen me, but there's no help for it. If you want justice, that's what you'll have to do. Wear the nicest clothes you have. Don't be a daughter whining about her siblings, be a subject demanding justice. I doubt he'll be able to resist."

"Well, why didn't you ever do that?"

"I was raised as an Earthling, Deana. His title never meant anything to me. You were born and raised as a royal child of the House of Vegeta, as best as your father could manage. Play it up. The Princess Deana pleads for justice from the Prince of the Saiyans."

A small smile bloomed on her tear-streaked face. "I am going to enjoy this!" She got up and darted from the room.

Goku relaxed back against the pillows, considered the plan he had offered, and the excuse he had given. He sighed. "Child… your father wouldn't acknowledge me if I made such a petition. I will never be anything except a low level warrior, and a rival, in his eyes." He shifted slightly, easing sore ribs. "I just hope this doesn't backfire."

Deana stood rooted outside the door, the dress she had grabbed for Goku to approve hanging limply at her side. She frowned, then went back to her room. Every dress she owned went across the bed. At last, she determined which one to wear. She slipped it on, and spent the next several minutes in front of the mirror fixing her hair. Her mind worked furiously, determining what she was going to say… and how to make sure that Kakarot was included in her father's justice.

There were books in plenty, the warriors had apparently missed those during their destructive spree. She'd read a great many that involved kings and princesses, and proper court behavior. Of course, she'd not paid attention to most of it, but she could come up with a reasonable approximation, couldn't she? Eleven didn't mean stupid, after all!

Finally satisfied with her appearance, she lifted her chin and set out. Her father would be at home this time of day, assigning her siblings to either hunting, training, or some form of study. She let herself in, and walked immediately to the large family room.

"What're you doing here? Come to whine to Dad?"

She gathered herself. "I came to ask an audience with the Saiyan Prince. I came to ask that he…" she met her father's eyes squarely, "either rule his people, or step down. I came to demand justice for the loss and destruction of the property which he himself gave to me!"

Dead silence, for all of five seconds. Then her siblings dissolved into raucous laughter and insults. Both quit abruptly when Vegeta stood and blasted five of them into silence. "What did you say?"

Deana swallowed. Not once in her life had her father ever used that tone on her. She took a deep breath. "I came to ask an audience of the Saiyan prince, Prince Vegeta. I came to seek justice for the theft and damage of property he gave to me. I came to ask him to rule his people, or step down."

"And who asks?" Her father's deadly tone had not changed.

"I am a child of the royal House of Vegeta, Princess Deana." In spite of her nervousness, her voice rang with conviction and pride. Her chin rose haughtily, the way she'd practiced in the mirror, and she twitched her dress away from a more slovenly dressed, dirty older sister near her.

Vegeta's eyes twitched to the sister and then back to her. "Your audience has been granted. Tell me of the justice you want."

Deana took a deep breath. "My lord gave me not two days ago a living consisting of a house, land, and animals." She proceeded to detail as best she could the damage that had been done to the garden and the numbers of beasts that had been killed or stolen. She drew another deep breath, and focused solely on her father.

"I would ask that my lord Prince Vegeta see to the return of those animals stolen, and the replacement of those destroyed. I would ask that those involved in the destruction of the land and garden be made to replant and repair what has been damaged. I ask that my prince dispense justice now, so that my lord's subjects do not become like those who destroyed our world forty-five years ago, but instead become great warriors like the men and women who fought against them."

Vegeta snapped to attention, Mitzu gasped. "What do you know of those events, girl?"

"Kakarot taught me more than how to land a punch, my lord. He taught me the care of the animals and the garden, how to cook and sew, how to keep house for myself. He also taught me something of history, my people, and my family." Her gaze turned briefly to her mother. "He has taught me about loyalty, Prince Vegeta, and about responsibility."

Her father looked as if he'd been slapped. His eyes narrowed dangerously. Her siblings scrambled to get away from her. "Is there anything else… Princess?"

She quelled her shudder and was desperately glad that her very frizzed out tail was hidden beneath the dress she'd chosen. Now, she chose her words even more carefully. "In light of the loyalty and…" a glance at each and every female in the room, "responsibility that Kakarot has shown, I would ask that my lord allow him to join my household should he return."

Jeers and laughter exploded around her as her siblings decided the whole thing was a joke. She kept her eyes focused on her father, her hands fisting as she waited. He demanded, and got, instant silence. "You shall have the animals returned or replaced. The garden will be replanted, the outbuildings and fences repaired. I will dispense the justice you have so graciously asked for. Should you have further trouble with malcontents, I shall deal a more… unpleasant form of justice."

Vegeta's hard gaze pinned her. She swallowed, but met it. "You, my daughter, have made me proud today. You have also reminded me that I have a position and responsibility to fulfill. I will cease my search for Kakarot, and he may join your household if he wishes. If not, he may go where he wills. I will no longer demand his service."

"Thank you, Father," Deana replied gravely.

His gaze swept the room. Most of his children wouldn't meet his eyes, and more than one blanched. "I know who needs to be at work making restitution. Go!" Over half of his twenty-five children got up and ran for the door, including four younger than Deana. Vegeta returned his gaze to her. "Where is he?"

She smiled brightly. "In bed, where he belongs. I'll tell him what you said."

Vegeta gaped at her, then began laughing. "You little minx!" He waved a hand. "Go on, get out of here. You have repairs to oversee."

Deana bowed, then skipped out the door and down the path. Reaction set in moments after she got through the door. She bolted for the bathroom. Then she went to Goku, to tell him how his idea had worked.

"Well. That went… much better than I expected." He sipped from the glass she'd handed him. "He's given me the freedom I've always had… that's kind of funny."

"Are you hurting? Are you okay, Kaky?"

"I'm as well as I can be, considering," he said after a moment. "My fever's been coming and going all morning, and I feel like I've been beaten into the ground… I was, actually. But I don't really hurt so much as ache. It all feels kind of… distant."

Deana chewed her lip. "Do you want something to eat? I can bring you some eggs, and some more milk, and see what I can salvage from the garden. And there's still some soup, too."

"Yes… I think I should eat." Goku yawned. "And sleep some more. I'm very tired."

Deana worked quickly to get a meal together for him, then sorted through her clothes again. Finally, she found something she decided was acceptable for working in, and went outside to oversee the repairs her father had ordered. Ordering her siblings around was a novel experience, and their unwilling obedience a salve to her wounded feelings. She knew perfectly well not one of them would have done what she told them to if it wasn't for that last threat of her father's, but she wasn't about to let them get away before they'd patched, replanted, and repaired every last thing they'd messed up.

Stolen livestock was returned, to be turned loose into freshly repaired paddocks or pens. The livestock they'd killed, or damaged beyond use for anything except food, her siblings were finding harder to replace. She realized then that Kakarot hadn't been joking when he'd told her of the invader's destructiveness.

His herds, hers now, had been decimated during the time he'd been missing. Her siblings reaction to her independence had reduced them even further. She knew from the rare hunting trips she'd gone on that wild animals and livestock alike were in scarce supply within a two day journey afoot.

And since she, like her sibs, could circle the globe in a matter of hours, she knew that the animal population to be equally low world wide. Deana gave this new insight due deliberation, chewing on a hangnail while she considered it. The plant life had rebounded fairly well, but animal populations were small, and theirs was the only settlement of intelligence.

Quasi-intelligence, she amended, and leapt up to screech at an older brother's carelessness. Her father showed up in the middle of her rant.

"Deana."

"F… Father?" She spun, not having realized he was there. "What is it?"

"How is Kakarot?"

"Sick. Achy and feverish. No, Tantrum! You can't leave that there, it will fall and kill more of the cows!"

"You seem to have things well in hand here."

"Papa, are there more houses?"

"More? Yes, of course. My wife's family developed them. Kakarot and I salvaged a great many from Capsule Corp." He frowned at her, not particularly pleased by the subject change.

"Papa, may I make a suggestion?"

"Full of those today, aren't you, girl? Go ahead."

"Kakarot said the invaders destroyed all the people. Shouldn't that mean there is plenty of land for my siblings? Couldn't you provide them with homes and property as you did me?"

"They haven't grown up enough to recognize the possibility is there," Vegeta returned gruffly. "I am somewhat offended that it was my youngest daughter who was first to grow up."

"Well, I suggest that you consider giving homes to the rest of your daughters, for them to raise their children in," Deana said tartly. "You won't be able to pawn the babies off on Kakarot this time! And if you try, I will insist he keep his children."

Vegeta opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. His eyes narrowed, his arms crossed. She ignored him in favor of yelling at Tantrum again for carelessness, and only then turned to face him. "Father, I can understand that the bloodlines are too close. I'm a very well read youngling. That doesn't make what you did to him any less wrong, and depriving him of his children would only multiply the offense. He doesn't deserve that.

"He lost all the family he had when the invaders came. You had your granddaughter, and later, your children. He stayed because of the children, because we needed him to raise us, because you wouldn't have anything to do with us until we were old enough to train. When my mother and sisters raped him, he ran. I don't blame him.

"But he came back. He came back, because he knew his children would need him. Do not take them from him, Father."

Pale purple hair, the color of his son's, the wide, pleading blue eyes of his wife, and wisdom far beyond her years. "He will have Mitzu's child, she has enough she won't miss one. Your sisters can decide for themselves. Those who keep their children, I will give homes to. And I will give one to Kakarot, as well."

She hugged him, hard. "Thank you, Daddy! I'm glad you aren't like the invaders!" She missed the expression that crossed Vegeta's face. "Go tell him, Daddy. He's in the big bedroom."

Vegeta went.


End file.
